


Gambler [Rafael Barba]

by law_nerd105



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Depressed Rafael, Drunken hookup, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/law_nerd105/pseuds/law_nerd105
Summary: He's been burying himself in gambling, drinking and women. So this night is nothing out of the ordinary to a broken Mister Attorney.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Reader, Rafael Barba/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Gambler [Rafael Barba]

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like Rafael has had very minimum backstory in the show, and that he should actually be pretty broken. So, I gave him this. It has little to do with the reader, but I was cleaning out my drafts again and found it so.....

He threw back the last of the whiskey in the tumbler, reveling in the sting it gave to the back of his raw throat. Raw because of the day he had spent arguing and shouting. The headache he had could either be a result of all the shouting, or the two bottles of cheap whiskey he'd spent his pocket money on.

Rafael found himself where he'd find himself every time life got too hard for him, sitting at a poker table, cards in his hands. He'd play his paycheck away, drink down his savings, then fall into the bed of the prettiest face he could find before leaving.

He was far past numb inside. He was sick of it. Sick of everything and everyone around him. He was sick of his job taking half of his life away from him. He was sick of dealing with the death of his abuelita and his abusive father. He was sick of his mother nagging for attention, no matter how much he loved her. And he was sick with himself, at who he was and what he was doing. Just like his dear old padre.

Rafael internally scoffed at the thought. He most often prided himself on being nothing alike to his old man. And yet, here he was. Living his life almost exactly the same as his father had not long before he died. Getting lost in gambling, alcohol and women.

The previous years of his life hadn't been much different. As a kid in the Bronx, having the father that he did, he spent his time at school and at the library, burying his nose in books. In college, having the terrible misfortune of falling in love with Yelina and enduring the results of her betrayal, he threw himself into his studies and cheap cigarettes. When his father died, he found comfort in alcohol. Starting his career, he did all he could to keep busy with his work. And when work started to stress him, he started acting like a sleazy stray cat, sleeping around. And then, when his abuelita passed away, he started gambling as well. Next he was probably going to find himself at a strip club, wasting his money there.

Rafael ran his hands down his face as he replayed the events of the week over in his head. SVU forced a shaky case on to him, even after he refused to take it. The detectives had been a nuisance all through the week asking for multiple warrants he couldn't give them. Liv couldn't get off his back about him needing to win this case. The DA was keeping him under a microscope since his return from suspension. The rest of the office couldn't stop gossiping. The jury came back to deliver a not - guilty verdict, and of course he was blamed for it. And to top it all off, he had lost his temper and snapped at his own mother for simply inviting him over for dinner.

So, there he was yet again. Drowning himself in alcohol, gambling away his money, and scanning the casino for the prettiest face, a cigarette dangling from his lips. If his abuelita knew what he was doing, she'd turn around in her grave and smack him stupid.

There was a loud buzz of atmosphere in the scrappy casino, only further encouraging his headache. And yet, he couldn't seem to care less at the moment. 

Rafael's eyes landed on the woman sat at the bar counter, alone, drinking. Short skirt, long legs, breasts halfway on display. Rafael shamelessly tossed his cards after he lost and made his way towards the woman. She'd do nicely for the night, he decided.

If someone at SVU could see him now, they'd likely arrest him. To hell with them all, anyway.

He was stressed, he was tired, he was sick of it all. He just wanted to forget. Again.

***

Rafael woke to an unfamiliar bedroom and mentally cursed himself. He muttered an audible 'fuck' under his breath with his hoarse, morning voice when he looked over at the naked woman laying with her back to him. Slowly, so not to wake her, he got up from the soft bed and started to get dressed.

He tried to avoid his thumping headache and growling stomach, knowing he just needed to leave as soon as possible.

He started looking around the room for his Italian leather shoes, cursing again when he couldn't find them.

"Your shoes are at the door," the woman mumbled. Rafael was momentarily frozen, cursing himself for waking her and needing to waste time to think of an excuse. He relaxed slightly when she rolled onto her back and he saw that she was on her phone. "Keys are on the kitchen counter," she added, not looking at him.

"Thanks," was all he could manage. Thanking the Gods that he didn't need to explain himself. Just as he was about to vanish into thin air, the woman called him back to her attention.

"Mister Barba," a shiver ran down his spine, he hoped to God again that he hadn't given her his full name. He turned around to face her again and almost missed it when she threw his silver watch at his chest. "See you at work."

If Rafael hadn't felt like a deer caught in headlights before, he sure as hell did now.

"What?" his voice nearly broke. She looked past her phone screen at him and his blood ran cold when he got a good look at her face. "Detective," he tried to ponder up an explanation, trying to get out of the hell he'd just created for himself. Praying she wouldn't want something more from him. She scoffed then and responded as if she had read his mind.

"Relax, Jesus. Just get out of my apartment," she rolled her eyes and then he didn't dare stay another second before he dashed to get the hell out of there.

Christ, he thought bitterly. He was so screwed.


End file.
